


Ten Months Prior

by goseaward



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alcohol, First Meetings, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: Whizzer is planning on leaving the party right up until a man stops him near the door.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Ten Months Prior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SingARoundelay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingARoundelay/gifts).



> singaroundelay, I love Falsettos and I've always wondered about how Marvin and Whizzer met--thank you for this prompt that inspired me to explore it a little! (Also, great username!)

Whizzer is planning on leaving the party right up until a man stops him near the door. The whole thing is deadly dull, nothing like what he'd been promised. The man who invited him here has starting chasing some other piece of ass he apparently thinks is finer than Whizzer's—bullshit, Whizzer's the best piece of ass at this thing—and Whizzer is making for the door, he _is_ , until this rich guy with a shirt open halfway down his chest stops him. And for this guy, Whizzer's willing to be stopped.

"Hi, handsome," the guy says. He reaches up and smooths his hand down Whizzer's arm. "Nice shirt."

"It would look even better on your floor?" Whizzer says.

"Just what I was thinking," the guy says, his smile ticking up a notch. "I live pretty—"

"Did that _work_?" says another voice from behind him.

Whizzer turns. He clocks the guy as a closet case immediately: dressed like he just came from his job at a bank, haircut and grooming screaming married despite the lack of a ring. Whizzer would say the guy's completely ignoring him, but that's not quite true: he does a brief scan right when Whizzer turns around, not fast or subtle enough to be missed, but obviously trying to be. There's something pointed in the way the guy turns his attention away from Whizzer, though.

"Of course it worked. It's like I said, Marvin, there's a whole city full of hot young men like my friend here"—he draws one finger down Whizzer's chest—"and all you have to do is talk to them."

"That's not _all_ you have to do," Whizzer says, annoyed. He's down for a quick fuck with a hot rich guy. He's not down for...whatever this is, between the hot rich guy and his friend, who is named Marvin. Marvin!

"Really, sweetheart?" the rich guy says with a smirk.

"Really," Whizzer says, and leaves.

He only goes to the kitchen, where he can get another beer. He has to skirt the remnants of a birthday cake on a table; he's not sure whose birthday it is, but he hopes they're having a better time than he is. He'd feel a little too much like he was ceding the field if he left entirely, but that conversation has soured the mood of the party. He loves going with men for a night, having some fun, getting off. He doesn't like being made to feel cheap.

"This is terrible beer," an unfortunately familiar voice says from behind him. "I don't know why I came."

It's Marvin. Whizzer turns and leans back against the kitchen counter. "It's a good way to pick up," he says, and then, not feeling particularly kind, "although it's harder if everyone can tell you're married."

"I'm working on it," Marvin says.

"Where's your friend?"

Marvin makes a face. "That asshole?" Whizzer immediately likes him a little better, although, A, Marvin is also an asshole, and B, Whizzer notices he still hasn't apologized for what happened in the living room. "He found someone even younger than you, and I left him to it."

Whizzer cocks his hip and smiles at Marvin. "Hotter than me, too?"

"No," Marvin says.

Look. Whizzer likes assholes. They're never good for him, but it still gets him hot. As long as they're not treating him like a piece of meat. "Compliments like that could turn a boy's head."

Marvin laughs. "I'm Marvin."

"Whizzer," Whizzer says.

Marvin blinks. "Pardon?"

"Whizzer." He says it plainly, no 'it's a long story' or 'buy me a drink and I'll tell you more.' It's a challenge.

"Nice to meet you, Whizzer." And...met.

"It's crowded in here," Whizzer says. "Let's go out on the fire escape."

Marvin blinks, but follows him. There's someone standing in the doorway, so Whizzer climbs through the open window. Awkwardly, Marvin follows. 

"It's nicer in the open air, isn't it?" Whizzer says.

Marvin looks around at the fire escape studded with cigarette butts, the Dumpsters down in the alley, the spill of—hopefully beer—near the stairs leading down. "Sure," he says.

Whizzer leans on the railing, and Marvin comes over and leans next to him. He's got confidence. Again, Whizzer likes to acknowledge his own weak spots. "So, Marvin," he says, "what brings you here? You know the birthday boy?"

"Tom," he says, jerking his head in the direction of the apartment.

"That a piece of ass, or...?"

"You tell me, you almost went home with him."

"Thought you said he wasn't a friend," Whizzer says.

"He isn't. But he knows where the good parties are."

"No, he doesn't. I mean, he brought you here."

This time, Marvin does actually laugh out loud. He looks better when he laughs, less polished up to fit neatly into a little "Married Closeted Man" slot. " _You're_ here," he says.

"A guy brought me here."

"Is he still around?" Marvin says. Whizzer can't tell if he's scouting for the competition or if he's nervous about getting beat up.

"I don't care either way."

"Promising," Marvin says, cocky, voice a little rougher, and Whizzer would try not to be turned on by that if he wasn't completely helpless to resist. They're going to have _such_ good sex later.

"On the other hand, if I don't like you..." Whizzer draws a line across his own neck. 

Marvin smiles. "So when you said you didn't care, you meant you threw him over the railing? Is that why you brought me out here?"

"Absolutely." They both look down to the ground four stories below. "Cleanup crews are very fast around here," Whizzer says.

"That's surprising. The rest of the place is a dump."

"I'll drink to that," Whizzer says.

Marvin holds up his beer. "Cheers." 

"L'chaim," Whizzer says, and tips back a long drink of his beer, showing off his throat and his lips wrapped around the bottle.

Marvin's staring at him when he finishes. At first Whizzer thinks it's a commentary on how hot he looks—Whizzer knows his angles—but then Marvin says, "You're Jewish?"

"My mother," Whizzer says.

"I should have known," Marvin says. "Whizzer, traditional Jewish name."

Whizzer sputters on his next sip of beer and Marvin laughs. 

"Me too," Marvin adds, unnecessarily.

"I won't make you bacon for breakfast, then," Whizzer says. 

He sees that Marvin wasn't nearly as confident as he'd looked: his eyes widen, startled, for just a minute. Whizzer can't help the smirk that he can feel on his face. If Marvin thinks he's prey, he'll have to adjust. Whizzer can give as good as he gets, and prefers to.

"Come on," Whizzer says. "I don't live that far."

"Uh, sure," Marvin says. Then, more certainly, "Yes."

Yes, Whizzer thinks, as he leads Marvin out by the hand. Most of the guys ignore them, but he sees Marvin's friend what's-his-name staring at them. Whizzer gives him the biggest grin he can. He may not have the best taste in men, he thinks, as he turns and pulls Marvin into a kiss in the stairwell, but at the very least, it's _his_ taste.


End file.
